Patience for a Sorcerer
by summerartist
Summary: When Merlin wanders into Kilgharrah's cave to seek shelter, the dragon is confronted with the problem of having a guest reluctant to take care of himself. Merlin would leave Arthur's side only if the situation was dire. Sort of a sick fic. with fluff and friendship and lots of Merlin and Arthur
1. Chapter 1

Author Notes: This is a story I wrote for myself. It ended up coming out to about 23 pages or more, and I thought, why not post it? I want to put down some warnings for a little bit of illness ick, but I have heard remarked that I can write about sensitive topics well. The illness hinted at in this story is called Ulcerative Colitis. Yes, I know I have covered this topic before.

It is a real illness that varies in severity and type of symptoms. This is mostly a fluff and friendship fic. without too much plot. You can put on your slash goggles if you like. The main characters are Merlin and Arthur from BBC's Merlin.

AUish where Arthur knows about Merlin's magic. This is before evil Guinevere, Mordred knighted, and Camlann.

* * *

Much did not take Kilgharrah, the last dragon, by surprise. He had seen kingdoms rise and fall, men survive fatal wounds, and trusted friends become enemies. He had seen the five kingdoms collapse into war and chaos. His heart did not stutter in his breast when the strangest or worst things he could imagine, happened.

What he did not expect was to be woken this morning from the mouth of the cave he was residing in, nor to be greeted with the sight he beheld. He heard a small scuffling noise, tiny shifts of pebbles. His highly attuned hearing picked up the distressed, panting breaths of a human.

He cracked open one eye, squinting in the bright dawn light. A human was crawling towards him on all fours. Its noises were pitifully small. It was in pain, he could tell from the tone of the gasping and the stress being put on the limbs, as if the human were too weak to move much further.

Contrary to popular belief, dragons did not hate humans by sight. They were good, intelligent companions in many cases. Though they were often very flawed, humans were not so unlike dragons. Kilgharrah could feel sympathy as well as the next dragon. And that is what touched his heart when he saw the human struggling in the dawn light, trying so hard to crawl into the cave before it.

Kilgharrah's eyes opened fully and adjusted, sleep pushed back to the recesses of his mind. He took in the sight before him more closely. The dark head was unmistakably familiar, as was the brown garb across its shoulders. What is more, Kilgharrah felt something stir deep within him, a feeling of connection. It was a feeling he only had in the presence of Merlin.

His mind fully awake and aware, he reared up on his feet, coming forward to get a better look at his kin. His long talons dug into the rock in his haste, creating an unholy amount of noise, startling the human before him, as rock dust and shards were disturbed upon the ground.

"Merlin! Merlin, what did this to you? Where are you hurt?" The dragon all but shouted in his mind.

Merlin flinched away from the commotion, curling in on himself.

"I'm fine!" Merlin responded weakly to the telepathy.

"You are not. I can feel it as well as see it. Where are you hurt?" The dragon's voice smoothed out, with a vague undercurrent of his alarm remaining.

Merlin was shocked to be facing a veritable scaly wall of protective fury. It was like the dragon was protecting his clutch of eggs, only, it was Merlin he was talking to. It was Merlin that was his metaphorical baby dragon. Kilgharrah had never addressed him thus, and Merlin was momentarily stunned.

"I'm not hurt! I just came here to find some peace, actually, and protection." Merlin talked aloud, breaking up the telepathic communication.

"Then why are you crawling on the ground? You breathe as if the next breath could be your last." Kilgharrah said sharply.

"I'll be alright. I just need rest. If you could help me up so I can come in…" Merlin reached out an arm towards his kin.

Kilgharrah extended his paw forward, like a maiden awaiting an arm to escort her, only it was Kilgharrah doing the escorting. Leaning hard on the scaly appendage, Merlin rose, pale hands on the golden hued knuckles. Merlin paused twice to catch his breath, hand over top his chest as if his heart was paining him. Still, they managed to enter the cave together. Kilgharrah was strangely patient, waiting for Merlin to sit himself down before speaking again.

"You are ill, warlock." It was a statement of fact, not a query.

"Yes." Merlin stated, though the dragon needed no confirmation.

"But why come here? Surely the court physician can assist you? I can do little for fever and sickness with magic."

"I know." Merlin leaned against the cave wall.

"Gaius is away, and there isn't anyone as skilled to help. There is little anyone can do for me." Merlin closed his eyes, taking a steadying breath.

Kilgharrah settled down before him, eyeing him calculatingly.

"Is there anything I can do, warlock?"

Merlin shook his head.

"Nothing. Except…if I could stay awhile, I would be grateful." Merlin propositioned.

"Of course. Though I sense there is much to be told about how you came to be here in my cave."

Merlin chuckled weakly.

"Actually, there isn't much. I got sick, worked too much, had nowhere else to go, and so I hiked out here. It wasn't far." Merlin rested his head against the cavern wall.

"Why did you want my protection?"Kilgarrah raised an eye ridge.

Merlin barely stirred.

"With Morgana out looking for me, and spies still in Camelot, I had to find, well, someplace safer for the time being. Arthur is well and looked after by his knights. He is too tired from our last campaign to venture out of the citadel for at least a week. He'll manage while I'm gone."

"And does he know where you are?" Kilgarrah asked almost curiously.

"I left word with the knights that I would be traveling for a few days. He won't bother looking for me until at least a month." Merlin murmured.

The warlock's body slumped further against the rock. His closed lids relaxed as his voice drifted away.

"Merlin. Merlin, listen. Now is not the time for slumber. I cannot protect you without knowing your state of health," Kilgharrah said urgently.

"I'm fine. I can handle it. Besides, it isn't the kind of thing you can just bring up in conversation." Merlin opened his eyes a slit.

"Try me." Kilgharrah challenged.

"My insides are bleeding, to give you the gist of it. There isn't a treatment for it besides constant pain relieving herbs. Gaius's books can tell me only so much."

"Do you need me to find some for you?"Kilgharrah was not usually so generous.

Merlin patted his pack in answer, letting the dragon know that he had all he needed. His hand slid back weakly to his side.

"And does that miraculous pack of yours contain something to keep you warm? You are quivering as if you are cold."

Now that the dragon mentioned it, Merlin noticed that he felt cold and he was shivering in the cool morning air. Kilgharrah sighed heavily.

"Come closer then. The fire of my breath burns in my body. My scales are quite warm."

Kilgharrah slowly lay his head down on the cavern floor, presenting his neck to his kin. Merlin crawled unsteadily towards the enormous dragon. He concentrated on dragging his body hand by hand and step by step towards Kilgharrah. At last, he slumped against Kilgharrah's graceful neck. It was indeed, warm. Kilgharrah was as hot as a blacksmith's furnace near the chestplate.

Merlin sighed, burying his face into Kilgharrah's neck, scales and armored plates mussing up his hair. After but a few moments, Merlin started to breathe deeply and peacefully. Kilgharrah closed his eyes, reentering the slumber Merlin had interrupted. The warlock and the dragon were silent, sleeping with no dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

Emrys, the greatest sorcerer in the world, was the most difficult individual to comprehend…and live with. Every time the dragon turned his back on the sorcerer, Merlin was doing something he should not. The warlock would scamper away without a word to Kilgharrah if he needed something. The dragon caught him trying to hunt when he grew hungry, though Kilgharrah could retrieve food suitable for a human with little to no effort.

When Merlin experienced bouts of pain and needed herbs from his pack he twitched and shuddered in silence. When he was cold, he curled up tightly into a ball in some dark corner of the cave. The last straw came one afternoon when Merlin stumbled to a pool of natural spring water in the cavern.

The warlock crouched down and spread his fingertips over the pool. He started to chant. His voice alerted the dragon.

"Merlin! Cease at once!" He bellowed, trying to startle the magician out of his spell casting.

Merlin did stop, startled, watching the dragon curiously.

"You are too weak, you can barely walk. If you are so determined to kill yourself, do not do so in my lair. Now, tell me what you are trying to do and I will help you."

Kilgharrah's tone was laced with exasperation. Merlin swallowed and blushed, a pink hue adorning his otherwise white face. He had been so pale the past few days, that the flush of color was a vivid contrast.

"I was going to warm the water. I wanted to wash."

Kilgharrah chanted quietly and steam rose from the pool before Merlin. Merlin smiled at the dragon. Kilgharrah had been strangely kind to him these past few days. The dragon was taking Merlin's infirmity very seriously, insisting on doing everything for him. Merlin could not fault him his attentions. Merlin was greatly weakened by the blood loss and the fevers from infections inside his body. His joint pain overwhelmed him at times, so he could rarely walk properly.

Even now, Kilgharrah was reluctant to leave him should he need any help or should he fall. Merlin looked up at the dragon and stammered.

"Uh…I-I sort of would like to undress to bathe."

Kilgharrah chuckled quietly.

"Your nudity would cause no embarrassment or discomfort for me. I never could fathom why humans insist on covering themselves thoroughly with animal skins, silks, and fibers. I won't leave you in case you need my help. Your weakness worries me, warlock."

Merlin blushed again, though Kilgharrah suspected it was from the comment about the dragon worrying. Merlin struggled to tug off his jacket and shirt, sweating with effort. His underclothes and breeches soon followed. He swiftly stepped into the warm water, escaping the cool air in the cavern to sink into the gentle heat of the pool.

The water was so shallow that his upper torso remained above water. He dunked his head in and leaned back against the rocky ledge, hair dripping. He tried to wash quickly, but the water felt so desperately good, that he was reluctant to leave the pool. The cleanliness was heavenly. The grime of the travel on the road and the rock dust and mud were washed off, leaving his skin pale and almost luminescent.

He smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks. His happiness flowed through his magical connection to Kilgharrah, causing the dragon to chuckle quietly. He let the ill warlock bathe for as long as he wished, for the warlock was more carefree than he had been in days. After a time, Merlin crawled out of the water, eyelids drooping, warm but exhausted.

The dragon discreetly surveyed the warlock. Merlin's ribs protruded, and his skin was so pale, it was almost green. The joints in his knees jutted out sharply when he crouched. The warlock was thin and wasting away before Kilgharrah's eyes.

The dragon resolved at that moment to get Merlin back to Arthur, whatever it took. He did not believe that Arthur would abandon this sorcerer to his own devices so soon. The king must be searching for him. Merlin needed his king, like a child needed a mother, like a plant that needed the sun and the rain to grow, and Arthur needed Merlin in the exact same way. They were inseparable. There was nothing more the dragon could do for him.

Merlin eyed his dirty clothes with a frown, knowing that he did not have the energy to clean them. He perched on the edge of the water, deep in thought, when something soft landed atop his head, obscuring his view. He pulled off the blanket and looked at the dragon accusingly, but then he smiled. He wrapped the soft fabric Kilgharrah had dropped around his body like a toga. It was a deep red, almost Camelot's color, but closer to a burgundy. The fabric was rich and thick, no doubt from a wealthy tradesperson, possibly one of Kilgharrah's past victims. Merlin shook the errant thought out of his head.

He tried to stand. His ears were ringing and his sight was fading away at the edges again. He gracelessly stumbled, holding his head gingerly. He felt Kilgharrah's wing nudge his shoulder, and push him towards the dragon.

He allowed Kilgharrah to guide him to his neck again, His eyes were almost completely shut, and his knees threatened to buckle beneath him. He all but fell atop the dragon's scales, the heavy darkness of sickness induced sleep creeping upon him. As his world winked out, his last thought centered on his dearest friend. He imagined the sulking king pacing his chamber and looking out the window, awaiting his return.

* * *

Unknown to Merlin, the king was now pursuing his wayward companion. He was riding tirelessly through the woods at sunset. His company of knights knew that darkness would soon be upon them, and they would no longer be able to follow the clumsy, stumbling tracks at nightfall. They kept silent, following the king that had become distant and quiet.

Merlin's small boot marks had become heavier and heavier on the damp soil. Soon, they had started to churn up the earth, boots scuffing up the ground as Merlin had stumbled. Arthur found a handprint in the mud every now and again. The king's mouth was compressed in a thin line, eyes as hard as granite. Even Gwaine held his tongue.

Quickly, a wide, yawning cave had come into view, too big to protect anyone from a draft, but deep enough to provide shelter from a rain. They lost Merlin's tracks in the rocky terrain. Somehow, the king knew they were close. He tied up his mount by the cave entrance and motioned for Gwaine and Percival to follow. Elyan and Leon soothed their edgy horses. The air smelled of soot and ash. A small smirk started to settle on the king's face. His men watched him, baffled. The king started walking fearlessly into the unknown.

Arthur walked as quietly and swiftly as he could into the cave, cloak billowing behind him. A great dragon lay along the foot of the cave, a bright, burnished gold. It was the same color of the creature that had attacked Camelot years ago. Gwaine paused beside Arthur, emitting a soft gasp. Percival fidgeted with the handle of his sword. Arthur held out a hand, halting any actions.

It took Arthur a full minute to spot Merlin. The sorcerer's pale skin blended in with the glitter of scales. He was garbed in a red cloth, skin bare and mostly uncovered. His dark haired head lay gently atop the dragon, rising and falling with every breath of the beast. Never before had the sorcerer looked more ethereal, as fair as an angel. His strange garb likened him to a saint.

Arthur surveyed the scene quietly. He gave no order to attack, nor any indication that he was uneasy. Instead, he took several steps forward. Kilgharrah's eyes snapped open. He bared his wickedly sharp teeth. Then, recognition showed in his eyes, and he smirked.

"I was wondering when you would come looking for the warlock. I was beginning to think something had detained you." The dragon said smarmily.

Merlin stirred feebly. The dragon did not move his head, should he jostle the human. The dragon peered at Arthur, silent, as if waiting for something.

"Merlin." Arthur muttered, coming closer as if drawn forward by a lead.

The king knelt before the warlock, eyes only for his friend. He paid the presence of the dragon no heed. The knights shuffled their feet, uneasy with their liege's proximity to the beast.

Arthur's gloved hand carded through Merlin's short hair.

"Merlin? Can you hear me?"

Arthur's gaze was drawn to the red fabric covering his friend. Did it hide injuries beneath? As if reading his mind, Kilgarrah responded.

"He is ill. Very ill. He sports no injury, but he needs your care, young Pendragon. Please take him from this place and guard him well. There are many who would seek to destroy him while he is in such a weak state."

"What ails him?" Arthur asked.

"He has told me little, but I can guess for myself. Something ails his intestines, causing them to pain him and his body to bleed. He has very little appetite, and he burns with fever. I could do nothing more than keep him comfortable." Kilgharrah said sadly.

Arthur grimaced, smoothing the back of his knuckles against Merlin's cheek. The king looked at the dragon, eyes conveying his deep gratitude.

"Thank you, Kilgharrah. You have protected him when I could not. I am in your debt."

"You owe me no payment. Merlin is my kind, a creature of the old religion. To lose him would be like losing a part of myself. Take him and care for him to the best of your ability. He is fading fast." The dragon sounded weary.

Arthur leaned down and gathered the ill warlock up in his arms. Merlin was so thin, that taking his weight was much easier than it should have been. Merlin's body seemed pale and fragile in his arms. The scarlet cloth exposed his long thin legs, and his collarbone, which was as delicate as a bird's wing. This heap of skin and bone hardly resembled the Merlin Arthur had come to know. Gwaine approached Arthur, jaw hanging open, somewhere between shock and speech. The king ignored him, walking out of the cave with purpose in his step. He had a warlock to heal.

Percival put a comforting hand on Gwaine's shoulder after Arthur passed them. They cast one last look at the large gold dragon before following their king out of the caves into the light. Merlin would need Arthur's help as well as their own to recover. They just hoped they were not too late.


	3. Chapter 3

"Merlin. Merlin, wake up. Don't be a lazy now, come on. Open your eyes."

Merlin knew that voice. He had not expected to hear it anytime soon. Merlin was lying on his back. He felt strangely…small. The flesh covering his ribs had shrunk, and his pelvis ached from lying in one position for so long. As he became more aware, he could feel a cool breeze against his face. He must still be outdoors. He opened his eyes, eyelashes gumming together made it a struggle.

He saw Arthur sitting in the sun by his side. The king's hair was lit by the dawn light, and his chainmail glittered, cool and pristine. Merlin's gaze was drawn to the king's eyes. Arthur was studying him intently, lines on his brow.

"How are you feeling?" Arthur asked calmly.

"Tired mostly. Bit cool." Merlin said hesitatingly.

Arthur sprung up and exited through a cloth flap. Merlin slowly became aware that they were in a tent. It was red and white, stripes arching across the high ceiling, thick to resist wind and fit for a king to sleep beneath. The tent flaps let in the light of the rising sun, melting away the dew that clung to everything. The golden haze of the sun and the spring green grass were visible through the tent flap. Merlin was lying on a small cot. His mind hazily tried to recall where Arthur had gotten a straw mattress from.

Flashes of the night sky crawled through his memory, as did the feeling of being carried away, with Arthur's voice lingering in his ears. He did not have much time to search his memories before Arthur returned, his arms full of cloth, fabric piled so high that he could hardly see overtop the bundle.

"The knights were feeling generous this morning. I think you have just about every cloak belonging to the members of the round table in this bundle."

Merlin laughed, staring incredulously at all the sacrificed covers that were meant to keep him warm. Arthur started spreading them over Merlin, layer by layer. For once, Arthur was playing the servant, and he did the task as naturally as Merlin would have.

"Do you think you can eat something?" Arthur's tone brooked no argument, and Merlin found himself nodding.

To his surprise, Gwaine entered the tent. The camp was aware that Merlin had finally woken, and it was hard for the knights to not rush in all at once to see how the warlock was faring. Gwaine entered with a large cracked stoneware bowl full of fresh provisions. There was meat, bread, freshly picked peppers, cheese, and apples.

Merlin struggled to sit up, mouth watering, and small stomach groaning. Gwaine smiled, putting the bowl within reach.

"Tuck in mate, it's all yourn. Though I think I might take an apple." The knight sat down with the king, leaning back and munching on the crisp fruit.

Merlin tore into the bread and meat first, truly hungry. After his frenzied eating slowed down and his belly was feeling much less desperate for nourishment, he started to talk.

"Where'd you get all this?"

"Farmers mostly. They heard the king was in the area attending to an ill friend and brought us supplies. Thoughtful people." Gwaine grinned, plucking up a bit of cheese that Merlin had not touched.

Arthur shook his head hopelessly at his Knight's antics. He smirked along with Merlin.

"How did you find me?" Merlin frowned, thinking.

"We followed your tracks only about a day after you left. Elyan and Gwaine told me there was probably something wrong. You never leave spur of the moment like that unless you had to. It was luck that we found you in time. You wouldn't have survived long in that cold cave with how thin you are…Which reminds me, we're going to send for a healer as soon as you feel fed enough." Arthur spoke resolutely.

Merlin grimaced, shifting around in bed. Arthur looked at him strangely, forehead creasing even more.

"Gwaine, could you leave us for a moment?" Arthur asked the knight, though his tone was laced with command.

Gwaine looked at them both curiously. Merlin looked flustered and embarrassed; the king was frowning, a dark look crossing his features. With the tension in the air, Gwaine felt himself backing out of the tent voluntarily. Only when they were alone, did Arthur speak.

"Merlin, I found blood on you. And well, you weren't wearing much. Tell me, was the dragon telling the truth? No one…hurt you?"

Merlin nearly choked on a bit of green pepper.

"Good lord, no. No one hurt me. I was sick, not…assaulted." Merlin blushed.

Arthur let out a sigh of relief, shifting back in his chair, no longer leaning over on the edge of the seat.

"Why did you leave?" The king demanded.

"Leave? Oh, you mean Camelot." Merlin was becoming confused with Arthur's behavior, and even now the blonde man was glaring at him intensely.

"I- well, Gaius wasn't there to help and I really had no one else to go to. I suppose I went to Kilgharrah for a bit of extra protection and I guess it felt like going to family, with him being connected to my father and all." The excuse sounded weak, even to his ears.

Arthur stood and started to pace. Merlin looked on with dread.

"I would have thought that you could consider…Guinevere and me as a sort of family." Arthur said quietly.

"You're my king Arthur. Besides, you had enough to be doing-" Merlin was cut off by Arthur.

"You know I would take time for you, for anything that was bothering you. Why clam up all the sudden when your life is at stake?"

"What was I supposed to say? Good morning, here's your breakfast, Arthur. By the way, I'm dying." Merlin mocked.

"Yes!"

The young man turned towards him, fuming. His face would go a funny reddish color when he was angry.

"Instead, I find you huddled up in some freezing cave with a dragon, wrapped in a sheet stained with blood, and you wasting away to skin and bone." Arthur all but shouted.

"Well, it does sound dramatic when you say it like that." Merlin said dryly.

Arthur pointed a finger at him, quivering with anger.

"If there's a problem, you come to me. Promise me."

"But-"

"Promise, Merlin. I don't want to come after you again to find you half dead in some cave, because you were too stupid to tell someone you were ill. I won't risk this happening again. Do you promise?" Arthur stared intently into his eyes.

"Fine, fine. If it will make you happy, I'll promise." Merlin replied peevishly.

The king scrutinized his friend a few moments more before nodding.

"Now, stay here, I'll send someone off for a healer." Arthur made to leave the tent before Merlin called him back.

"Arthur, try to get a druid. They have more knowledge of healing magic than both Kilgharrah and I."

"I'll see what I can do." Arthur replied, with one more backward glance at Merlin.

Left alone in the tent, Merlin finally groaned, full extent of his pain showing on his face. His abdomen hurt, and not just from the food. It had been hurting for quite some time. He huddled under the blankets and cloaks, waiting for the pain to pass. One thing was for certain, he was not looking forward to being examined by a healer. He knew enough about medicine to know that his examination would be invasive and painful. Then a horrible thought occurred to him, and he blushed furiously. He had forgotten to tell Arthur to send for a man!

* * *

Luckily, Arthur had the foresight to know that a woman would not be an appropriate choice to examine Merlin. A quiet old druid man returned to the camp with the king. He was cloaked in the customary earthy colors, and his beard was streaked liberally with grey. He had dark eyes and a peaceful demeanor. He also brought with him a bundle of herbs and medicines within a well-worn travel bag. He appeared surprised when Arthur led him to the king's tent, but when he saw Merlin, recognition dawned on his face.

"Emrys! What a surprise to see you here in this little village!"

Merlin smiled at him, face unusually pale and expression pinched.

"You aren't well, I can see. Don't worry, I'll see you more fit in no time. Please list your symptoms for me." The man started by feeling the pulse in his wrist and pulling at Merlin's eyelids to stare closely at the whites of his eyes.

Merlin glanced up at the king, who was still in the tent. Merlin's gaze conveyed that he wanted Arthur to leave, and Arthur complied until the druid gestured for Arthur to come closer. They both looked at the old man with surprise.

"He'll need care, my king. And therefore someone should know the extent of his ailments. Who among you will care for him? I assume your party will head back towards Camelot."

"You assume correctly. We will be returning to the citadel. I will be caretaker for him while we travel," Arthur said determinedly.

Merlin was already shaking his head.

"But Arthur, it wouldn't be appropriate-" Merlin protested.

"You're my friend Merlin. I'll do whatever it takes. I know that what ails you is…private. But rest assured I've seen enough of this world to not be afraid of unusual illnesses. It would be an honor to serve you as you have served me." Arthur came and sat by his bedside, watching the druid continue to examine Merlin.

The frail warlock was wearing Arthur's clothes, which were much too large on him, especially now. He was positively swimming in the overtunic, and the druid tutted to himself when he lifted Merlin's shirt to examine the small abdomen. His long, spidery fingers ghosted over Merlin's stomach, and the sorcerer flinched wildly, as if he was being punched instead of poked. Arthur watched the involuntary twitching with a grim expression.

"Symptoms please, Emrys." The druid prompted.

Frowning, Merlin took a deep breath and told them everything.


	4. Chapter 4

The druid exited the king's tent hours after he had arrived. The knights on watch stared at him, watching for an expression that would give them a clue about Merlin's condition.

The king exited the tent seconds later, and was seen to be paying the druid. The druid waved the king's gold away, saying that he needed no payment, that it had been an honor. Arthur clasped his arm and shook it, letting the druid leave with humble thanks on Merlin's behalf.

A congregation of knights marched up to Arthur. It was Elyan, Gwaine, Leon, and Percival who stared expectantly at the king.

"So…?" As always, Gwaine was the first to speak.

Arthur took a deep breath, expression neutral.

"He'll recover."

There was a collective exhale from everyone.

Arthur continued, "But it will be a long recovery. He'll need plenty of provisions and blankets. He'll have to take it easy for a while."

"That's it? It doesn't sound so bad." Gwaine smiled.

"I've volunteered as caretaker. He'll need medicines and help to walk around. He's also… nauseous and going through some unpleasant symptoms." Arthur grimaced, clearly uncomfortable with having to relay the information.

Percival raised his eyebrows, silently urging Arthur to go on.

"We've seen and heard much, mate. Ol' Merlin couldn't make us squeamish, even if he wanted to." Gwaine clapped the king on the shoulder reassuringly.

"He's in a lot of pain. There's something wrong with his intestines. He's bleeding inside and he can't always control his body. There will be…accidents." Arthur blushed on Merlin's behalf.

"Is the bleeding bad?" Elyan voiced worriedly.

"Not too bad yet." Arthur looked at the ground.

"We'll help you, sire. Whatever he needs, he can count on us." Sir Leon told the king.

Slowly, the rest of the knights nodded in assent. They were not used to playing nursemaid, but for Merlin, they would take on just such a responsibility. They had known the sorcerer many years. He had done much for each of them. Now was the time to repay Merlin's ardent kindness.

"I thank you for your help. I'll need your help, Percival, to get him to mount a horse. We head out soon. Merlin will be more comfortable at home, in Camelot." Arthur dismissed them to go and pack their provisions and ready the horses. He went back in his tent to prepare Merlin. It was a long road ahead.

* * *

"We're stopping. Time for your medicine." Arthur murmured, gently waking Merlin. He called Percival over to help Merlin dismount.

Merlin hissed with pain, dizzy, and he clung to the large knight. Percival gently held onto him, letting him find his feet, until Merlin let go of the front of his chain mail. Merlin staggered over to a log at their campsite. Merlin paused, straightened up, and turned pale, covering his mouth. Without a word he started running off into the woods.

Gwaine winced with sympathy. Arthur's expression was grim, having expected the reaction. After half an hour, the warlock returned. He was pale, sweating, and could barely keep on his feet. Elyan ran to him and threw his arm around Merlin's shoulder, helping him over to their group. Merlin was whiter than a sheet, he staggered, nearly collapsing. Arthur took his other arm, carrying Merlin with the other knight.

"Need…walking stick." Merlin gasped.

"That would be a good idea." The king agreed and sat Merlin down and dug several vials out of his pack.

"Just take a sip of this one. Down that one whole. He said to have this one with food. I'll go get the provisions." Arthur seemed to have the medicines and herbs well organized.

He actually did know which ones did what. There was a potion for the pain and a couple to reduce inflammation. One prevented infection. Merlin drank them obediently, the sour tastes reminded him of Gaius's potions, and he found himself missing his guardian's presence.

He was startled when Sir Leon suddenly wrapped his cloak around his shoulders. They soon broke out the food and a merry luncheon commenced. Gwaine cracked more and more hilarious jokes, making Merlin grin exhaustedly. It was an effective system of helping Merlin that they had developed. Percival carried, Elyan supported, Leon kept him warm, Gwaine made him laugh, and Arthur doled out potions. It felt surprisingly…nice. It was done with very little fuss, hardly any words were exchanged about who did what.

It seemed to be a longer road going back to Camelot than it had been leaving it. In that time, things grew worse. Merlin started dozing off on horseback. He started to sleep for longer periods of time, and he remained drowsy after resting. It was hard for Arthur to find time to give Merlin medicine. Merlin was still thin, and always cold. Arthur had even taken to sleeping by his side, refusing to let Merlin shiver himself to sleep at night. It would have been a cruel reward after his rescue.

It was one night when things began to go downhill quickly. Arthur woke in an empty tent in the middle of the night. He sat up quickly, sleep forgotten. He felt the empty space at his side. The blankets were still warm, so Merlin had not been gone for too long. He poked his head out of the tent. His knights slept undisturbed.

Perhaps Merlin was answering a call of nature? But his mind equally supplied him with a vision of Merlin collapsed somewhere, too weak to make it back to the camp. Clad in only his trousers and a long nightshirt, Arthur left the campground, listening intently.

Perhaps Merlin was down by the stream? There was a stream close by that they had filled their waterskins at that day. Merlin had always done his chores by the water at every opportunity; it was a familiar place for him. Arthur followed the sound of the trickling brook. Sure enough, he heard splashing.

"If you decided to take a bath during the middle of the night, I am going to kill you, Merlin."

A silhouette in the dark turned around at the sound of his voice, then it uttered a croaky "Go away, Arthur."

Arthur came closer instead. That gangly shadow was unmistakable.

"I'm not going back without you. It's cold out here and you're tired." Arthur was ever the voice of reason.

"Just…just go back and wait for me. I won't be long." Merlin's throat was tight.

"What's wrong?" Arthur came towards the sorcerer, tone alarmed instead of reassured.

"I had to wash something." Merlin's breathing hitched.

"Merlin." Arthur's tone switched to steady concern, hearing Merlin's offhand voice.

"Just go away, please. This is embarrassing enough." Merlin pleaded.

It was then Arthur realized Merlin wasn't wearing any trousers. His legs were stick thin and pale in the dark forest. He had been crouched over something in the water when Arthur had interrupted him…washing his trousers.

"You had an accident." Arthur observed.

"Yes. If you're going to make fun of me, go ahead. I feel rotten enough about it." Merlin said dejectedly.

"Merlin, its fine. The druid said to expect this to happen. It's not your fault." Arthur pointed out.

Merlin looked at him, eyes wide.

"You, refusing to tease me? I'm starting to think you're coming down with something."

"What sort of friend do you think I am to tease you over something that bothers you this much." Arthur said quietly.

"Never stopped you before." Merlin's voice quivered.

"Merlin! Merlin, I wouldn't. Is this the reason you left Camelot? You thought I was going to humiliate you about this?" Arthur demanded.

"You're always saying I'm useless…" Merlin said, breath hitching again. "Well, you're right. I'm so useless I can't even control myself anymore. I-" Merlin sobbed dryly.

Arthur stared on in bewilderment. His servant was not prone to tears or theatrical displays. Then again, Merlin was the most overtired one of them all. Merlin's emotions would be closer to the surface after everything he had been through.

"Merlin. Come on, you're talking nonsense. You're tired and it's freezing out here. Just leave the stupid trousers. It's dark and no one will see." Arthur grabbed his sleeve and led him away from the stream.

Merlin followed numbly. Both men stumbled back to camp in the dark, darting quickly back into the king's tent before the knights could see them. Merlin was nearly inconsolable, only uttering stuttering, wet breaths. He did not answer any of Arthur's questions, sitting resolutely mute on the ground. Arthur was at a loss. Perhaps the medicine was affecting him? Certain herbal concoctions could intensify emotions. But then Arthur felt Merlin's forehead.

What he found sent him running for the knight on watch.

* * *

Quick author note: I toyed with the idea of Arthur's character being more mature, a result of learning and coming to terms with Merlin's magic. I sort of brushed off the knight characters to just bring Merlin and Arthur to the forefront. This story is to be continued later this week...


	5. Chapter 5

By morning, Merlin was drenched in sweat and as weak as a kitten. He could not even sit up on his own. Arthur sported dark shadows under his eyes, as did Sir Leon. They had sat up nearly the entire night as Merlin's fever burned furiously. Merlin was quiet throughout the ordeal, too quiet. Gwaine and the others were shocked to learn of Merlin's illness during the night. They fetched fresh water for drinking and washing the sorcerer's clammy skin. Throughout, Arthur handled him as tenderly as he would Guinevere, propping Merlin up and supporting his head to help him down his potions.

Merlin did not know clarity during this time. He would twist out of their grasp, muttering self-deprecating, nonsensical things. He did not respond to any form of comfort or ease they gave him. As morning dawned, they spoke in hushed, tired voices. They let Merlin sleep off the rest of the fever. Arthur pushed them to go faster to Camelot, and assigned Gwaine to ride with Merlin in front of him. The warlock hardly knew his friends.

He was always cold, though he rode bundled in blankets with Gwaine at his back. Merlin was hardly more active than a corpse. During the ride, a change had started to come over Gwaine. The knight hardly talked, and he was grim faced. It was if he was already in mourning. He held onto Merlin with tenacity. There was no way in the five kingdoms that Merlin would ever fall during the ride. Gwaine's eyes held the greatest change: no longer shining with merriness, but hallowed and troubled.

When Camelot came into view, the knights could not hold back a cheer. Even Arthur could not keep a smile from quirking across his lips. The pale castle shimmered in the sun, like a beacon of light during a storm. Leon rode ahead to prepare the castle for their arrival.

They made a spectacle for the peasants to gawk at, as they entered through the citadel gates. The king was riding at the front, followed by his travel stained entourage of knights. They were filthy from the cave and the mud, not having had a wash for days. Shortly after the king rode the brave and brash knight Gwaine, supporting the king's manservant. The dark haired boy was as pale and limp as a doll. At first glance, he looked lifeless.

When they stopped at the main doors of the castle, they started to dismount. Merlin was supported between Arthur and Elyan, head lolling against the shoulder of the king. Guinevere came running down the stairs to meet them, hair unbound and expression twisted with emotion. She called the name of her husband and their dearest sorcerer friend.

"Arthur, what happened? Is he hurt?" She reached out to touch the warlock, only to be thwarted by Percival steering Merlin up the stairs to the castle.

Arthur stared after him, indecision warring on his face. Guinevere deserved to know about Merlin being ill, but Arthur needed to see Merlin settled somewhere appropriate. Seeing the fight going on behind the king's eyes, she nodded at Arthur, gaze patient. Arthur needed no further permission. He ran to catch up with Percival.

* * *

Merlin was settled in a guest bedroom in the palace. Arthur had made certain he had a comfortable bed and enough light filtered through the windows. He did not want his servant to have a dark sickroom. It was opposite Agrivane's old chambers, in a section of the castle with spacious bedrooms. Guinevere's new maidservant came to light the fire without a word to the king. She scurried out of the room quickly, sensing Arthur's unease. Arthur was not known for keeping vigil on anyone, and so he went about finding Merlin's most trusted servant friends to care for his needs.

Gaius could not have picked a worse time to leave. Though Arthur could not begrudge the court physician needing to catch up with his brother that month after several years of little contact. He could have at least met his brother at a halfway point, instead of having to travel such a long distance without sending word to anyone. Now his ward's fate rested in the king's hands.

Merlin's servant friends dusted the old room and wiped the warlock's brow, voicing encouragement. Merlin was conscious throughout, though hazy. He gave only fleeting smiles to his helpers. He remained in bed for a week. The sheer amount of inaction baffled and concerned all who cared for the warlock. Merlin would only have the strength to sit by the fire once in a while, and it was there he would often fall asleep.

The knights helped keep vigil over Merlin, as did the queen. Gwaine was Merlin's favorite visitor. He recounted funny stories of his boyhood, and relived memories of the adventures he had had with Merlin and Arthur. Merlin listened, eyes shining with fondness. The past was as much consolation, as it was a knife in his heart. He did not think he would ever be able to go on an adventure with his king again. The golden age of Albion was past. It was time to let it fade. His only regret was not being able to see the elder years of Arthur's reign.

Arthur visited often, but never for very long. Merlin suspected that he went to bash in shields at the training ground after his visits to the sorcerer. Merlin could always tell when Arthur was in a temper. He needed things to do, something that he could expend his energy on while helping Merlin.

One morning, Arthur paid an early visit. He had shadows under his eyes to match Merlin's own. They were also bloodshot and red rimmed. Merlin could not find the energy to be alarmed. He had seen so many events slip away from him these past few weeks that the world of the living was starting to feel distant.

"Merlin." Arthur's voice was that of a lost little boy. Merlin had never heard it before.

Something was rekindled within the sorcerer when he heard his name in that voice. Some sense of duty stirred, forcing him to do something, anything, for both of them. His old sarcastic, playful nature started to bubble up within him. Perhaps he had finally cracked.

"Stinks."

Arthur just started at him askance with bleary eyes.

"What stinks? I don't stink." The king defended.

"No, I stink always being in this bed. Don't I get a hot bath when I am on my deathbed?" Merlin croaked.

"You're not dying!" Arthur's tone held no true fight in it.

He stepped closer to Merlin's bed, body as worn as Merlin's.

"Are you serious about wanting a bath?" Arthur suddenly asked.

Merlin, whose eyes had drifted shut, had cracked them open again. His look was all Arthur needed to know that Merlin had been telling the truth; even though a thin veil of embarrassment had descended over the warlock's features.

The simple request spurred Arthur into action. Merlin had not seen Arthur invigorated for weeks following Merlin's rescue. It was worth the embarrassment of being helped into a bath just to see Arthur bellowing orders again.

A wooden tub was brought to the sickroom and filled quickly with the help of several maids. When they left and shut the door, Merlin expected Arthur to reopen it and fetch a male servant to help Merlin into the tub. A shock of confusion and surprise went through him when he saw Arthur rolling up his sleeves, coming over to stand by him.

"What do you think you're doing?" Merlin asked fuzzily.

"Helping you, what does it look like?"

Arthur was suddenly hunched over him, fingers making quick work of the laces on Merlin's tunic. He removed the clothing almost reverently, but efficiently. Merlin was undressed quickly. Soon, he was shivering, arms wrapped around himself, nude in the bed. He knew it should not matter what he looked like when Arthur saw him like this. It did not even feel like his body anymore. But he could not help trying to guess what Arthur was thinking when he had put Merlin in such a vulnerable position. Merlin was aware that he looked skeletal, wasted. Was Arthur disgusted? Pitying? Merlin could not see past that determined expression on the king.

Merlin was offered a hand up, like a lady being escorted to a feast or celebration. It was strangely court like, out of place in a commoner's sickroom. Merlin's mind's eye conjured up Arthur's crown and armor on the king, holding out his hand to aid a subject. He shook the vision out of his head.

Merlin stumbled out of bed like a newborn colt, all awkward joints. Arthur steadied him with a firm hand on his back. The king grimaced. Little did Merlin know, his bare back felt like nothing but spine and rib cage. Merlin stepped into the tub with a sigh, warm water calming his frazzled nerves and soothing his embarrassment. He let the warm water envelop him.

Arthur stood by awkwardly. He had done his job getting Merlin in. He was at a loss of what was expected of him. Should he leave the room and grant Merlin privacy? Should he occupy himself with a book, but keep close should Merlin need help? Merlin broke the silence.

"You don't have to look so scared. Have a seat. Tell me about training with the knights…" Merlin's voice was slightly stronger this time.

"Are you giving me orders?" Arthur smirked.

"Mmm. Going to accuse me of treason, now?" Merlin rolled his eyes.

Arthur fell silent. He looked miles away, eyes glazing over. He no longer smiled and jested. Merlin decided to leave him to his thoughts and dunked his head underwater, getting the grime out of his hair. Perhaps Arthur was thinking about when Merlin first revealed his magic. Or maybe he was thinking about the treason of his uncle. All of the assumptions and theories Merlin cooked up started to exhaust him. His mind still felt fuzzy from medicines and malnourishment. It was a miracle that he had kept some scrap of sanity.

Merlin knew he was dying. It was slow, but he felt himself fading with every day. Too much blood was escaping him to be replenished. He had started to have bouts of dizziness when he was lying prone in bed. He felt his magic gurgle up from his core and start to wither, a faint, wispy thing.

Everything was thrown into high focus these past few days. The trees and fields were vivid outside his window, though they seemed far away on the outskirts of town. Everyone's voice was musical, and their clothes were a masterpiece of color and detail. He could see every golden hair on Arthur's head, and every crease in his tunic. The clarity was oddly relaxing, pleasant. If everyone experienced this while dying, Merlin no longer grieved as much for their last moments. It was like he had been a blind man, but now he was seeing for the first time.

Mentally and physically exhausted, Merlin eventually slumped against the side of the tub. Arthur helped him out, though he did this time with a flush high on his cheekbones. Merlin could not muster up the strength to laugh. An awkward Arthur was a rare sight indeed.

The king sat him down on the edge of the bed. Merlin waited there for further direction, using his energy to stay upright. Before Merlin knew what was happening, a long nightshirt was being tugged over his head, and his arms were gently pulled through the sleeves. His eyes widened when he saw Arthur doing the gentle dressing. The king had never been so careful before, at least as far as the sorcerer could remember. Those hands of his would grip a sword and a goblet firmly. He could punch, draw back a crossbow bolt, and ruffle hair playfully. Merlin had neither seen nor felt this careful, uncertain touch coming from Arthur. Merlin blinked dazedly, settling himself back in bed after he was dressed.

"We have to do something. I-we can't let you continue on like this." Arthur said firmly.

"You've already had several physicians examine me. There is no cure. Not even Gaius could fix this. Sometimes the only thing a physician can do is grant a painless death." Merlin said dejectedly.

Arthur was already shaking his head.

"I refuse to let you die. There must be something. Anything. Something we haven't thought of yet. Are you certain you can't help with your magic?" Arthur asked.

"There are no spells. With my luck, I would end up tearing myself open even more if I tried. I'm not even sure if my magic can function internally, nor would I have the strength to attempt it." Merlin smiled bitterly.

Arthur had flinched at the mention of 'tearing open', but kept his composure.

"There must be a way, something or someone that could heal you. Think! You know more about healing than I do. Nothing in all of your books?" Arthur entreated him.

"No." Merlin gave a small smile.

"How can you be so calm? How can you just accept this?" Arthur's voice cracked.

"Because I have to. I didn't want this. I would have stayed by your side until the end. My only regret is that I won't get to see you age, to see Camelot grow and prosper. I won't be able to see you hunt anymore, or argue and be an idiot, or show your kindness." Merlin's voice shook slightly.

Arthur gave a twitchy, exhausted smile.

"Does it hurt?" Arthur asked. His eyes were alight with compassion.

"No. I'm too weak to feel much of anything. You must have felt that way before, with all the times you nearly died. It doesn't feel quite real. "

Arthur still looked blank.

"Remember when Morgana gave you that bracelet with the eye of the phoenix? You could barely stand." Merlin offered the king a comparison.

Arthur nodded.

"I think I remember it. It was mostly a blur, but I think I recall how it felt. Luckily you got that bracelet off just in time." Arthur pondered.

Merlin went quiet for a few seconds before his eyes went wide. He sat up in bed quickly, showing more stamina than he had in weeks. His heart pounded in his breast. Arthur gave a tiny jump, as if about to push him back down again.

"Arthur, the bracelet! Remember Morgana's other bracelet?"

The king stared at him in confusion.

"Morgana had nightmares, so Morgouse gave her a bracelet of healing. What if…" Merlin trailed off.

Arthur looked at him blankly for a moment before his face split in a grin, his eyes twinkling with new hope.

"Well done Merlin! It might just work. I knew there was something we overlooked." Arthur gave a relieved laugh.

Merlin observed the new glow of hope to his friend's continence. The king's cheeks took on a more rosy hue, and his eyes gleamed in the dim lighting. And suddenly, he could not stand it.

"It won't work Arthur. Even if we did manage to find it, there is still the fact that it was used to cure nightmares, not diseases. I doubt there is something that powerful."

Arthur wore a new dark expression, disapproving gaze on the ill sorcerer.

"It's still something. Better than we've had for weeks. I'm going to go after it. If it is still with Morgana, then it will be near Lord Elwin's lands." Arthur stood, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

He had to pack, prepare his men, and find the location as soon as possible. He would be going in person. He owed Merlin that much.

For what felt like years instead of weeks, he had felt his faith being drained away, being forced to watch his friend slowly and painfully deteriorate. Merlin was a shade of his old self, a ghost of his old humor and stamina. Arthur had felt the loss of that friendship and support keenly. He no longer heard the murmur of Merlin's advice, nor felt the effect of his smile. He would do anything to get it back, to feel that constant presence of Merlin by his side.

"Arthur," Merlin's sad, resigned voice broke through his hopeful visions.

"Don't go. You'll be playing right into her hands." Merlin had grabbed the king's wrist as if to tether him to his side.

"I must go." Arthur detached Merlin's hold and lay his arm gently back by his side, "I won't be gone long."

Merlin watched him with gleaming eyes.

"I might not see you again." Merlin whispered.

"You will." Arthur said firmly, "just hang on."

* * *

Author Notes: Thank you for your reviews! And sorry I didn't include more of the medical treatment involved, lovely Anon. I'm not quite ready to write something that much in depth about this topic, because my memories are more than a little jumbled and hazy. Not to mention that the druid would have had some out-of-date methods of treatment.

I'm aware that I made Merlin rather fond of baths, but to be fair, they were a luxury at that time in history. Just warning you all, I had a good start on this story and then the ending just crumbled away on me. Check out my Merlin fanart instead. I am redsailor on Deviantart and redartist on Tumblr. Only 1 more chapter to go edit and post...


	6. Chapter 6

When Arthur returned three days and four nights later, he arrived with a bowed head stained with rainwater. His eyes were pools of emotion, and he stood with his shoulders slumped.

He stood by Merlin's bedside until the warlock opened his eyes. Merlin surveyed him for many minutes. Arthur's ragged appearance and downcast gaze gave everything away. No words were needed.

Arthur had failed. The bracelet was gone, probably destroyed by the witch herself. Though intentional or accidental, Merlin never cared to find out. Such petty thoughts were far from his concern now. There was such little time left.

"We have one last journey to go on, my friend." Arthur stated gently.

Merlin blinked up at him, face adorned with a trusting smile. His feeble heart raced with anticipation for adventure.

"When?"

"As soon as you wake again. For now, drink this."

Suddenly, Arthur was beneath his shoulders, sitting him up and supporting his head as a goblet of cool liquid was tipped down his throat. Merlin fell deeply into the arms of Morpheus, content in Arthur's warm grip.

* * *

Merlin awoke sporadically, sometimes cocooned in blankets, sometimes spread out on a sheet on the grass, trees soaring above him. Consciousness fled as quickly as a willow-the-wisp. He remembered later, that his times immersed in the darkness had some fleeting traces of thought. He wondered if he had died. If that had happened, how would Arthur fare? He woke tossing and turning and fell asleep again, pained, as a soothing hand stroked his back and felt his pulse.

He came to for a few fuzzy moments in a field and had a vague impression of talking to Sir Gwaine while Arthur had gone to scout ahead, but it was brief.

* * *

He awoke to a fresh breeze and a gentle humming in the background. Was that someone singing? Then his ears registered the sound of crashing waves. The cries of gulls came through the haze. He was lying across something soft. He felt fine grains of sand beneath his fingertips. His heart gave a little jump of pleasure. He shifted and opened his weary eyes.

Arthur was looking down at him. He saw the bright, glassy green of the ocean waves rising and falling behind his king. He wondered again if he was dead or if this was some fantastical dream.

"We've arrived in your favorite spot." Arthur smiled sadly.

Merlin came fully awake, dark eyes shining in the sunlight. He inhaled the clear air deeply into his lungs. A warm tingle of relief and ease spread throughout his body.

"You remembered." Merlin's voice was raspy with disuse.

"Of course I did." Arthur said, voice holding no emotion.

"What are we doing here?" Merlin queried.

"We're on holiday."

"Not much of a holiday if I can't swim." Merlin murmured.

"We'll go swimming soon. Rest now."

It was if the weary king had shut down, a tired shadow that would see Merlin through to the end. It was too much for the warlock to confront. He shut his eyes in resignation, hoping to wake to a different world, one where Arthur could be happy. For a moment or a day the sky winked out…

* * *

"Merlin, it's a new day"

Merlin lay still in the king's grasp. He breathed. He felt Arthur's warmth burning beside him, the blood pulsing under the skin. He wore no chainmail, only a cotton tunic and breeches.

If Merlin were to open his eyes, he would have seen the fair king supporting him unaided. The young man's hair gleamed in the rising sun, bright as a halo across his brow.

Merlin had a vague impression of the knights of the round table standing upon the shore. He could hear them breathe quietly amidst the noises of the waves. His attention was drawn back to his master.

The king smiled gently, turning his back on the knights. He walked towards the crashing waves. His arms began to tremble with the weight of his friend, but he paid it no heed, nor asked for aid. He stepped lightly atop the sand in his soft leather boots. His toes were soon dampened with sea foam.

He carried Merlin like a child through the water, like the bride of his destiny. Water filled his boots, soaking in through the lacing. His white shirt stuck to his salty skin. He walked and walked until he had to swim. The water was less tumultuous in the deeper waters, buoying them as gently as a boat. The sea gently rocked Arthur and Merlin.

Merlin was submerged to the neck in Arthur's grasp. The water was cold, almost icy. Still, Merlin did not respond, just breathed shallowly. His breath ghosted across Arthur's collarbone, parted lips dry and fragile. His long, dark eyelashes lay still. His face was wan, grey, and cold. The morning sky was painted with gold and peach colors, fuzzy little clouds lined with silky purple. The colors reflected and refracted off their skin, bringing a pink hue back to Merlin's lips, a blush of color back to Arthur's cheeks and face.

The dawn light shimmered across Arthur, dressed in whites and hair a thatch of gold. It was very dim against Merlin's smaller, darker features. His red neckerchief was soaked, as was his blue tunic, billowing around him in the water. Suddenly, Merlin sighed. It was a thin, high sound, unlike his deeper, mumbling tone. His eyes flashed open as if startled. His gaze was more aware than it had been in days, with the sun touching the darks of his pupils. Arthur's face scrunched up as if close to tears or longing to shout, a war of emotions playing across his face.

"For a moment there, I thought we lost you." Arthur's voice was uncommonly gentle, voice nearly lost in the wind.

The ends of Merlin's lips curled in a slight smile.

"No…can't g-get rid of me that easily." Merlin sighed, eyelids drooping.

Arthur frowned and tightened his grip around Merlin, nestling the dark head against his own. Merlin's hand dropped limply from his own lap, deeper into the water, thin fingers tickled by bubbles in the deep. A sudden feeling of wellbeing encircled him, like the rays of the rising sun.

The currents began to weave around him, dancing across his skin. They slithered across his torso, shoulders, shins, thighs, and arms. The currents began to feel as if they were a part of him, an extension of his body and mind. They were wild and controlled, gentle and unyielding. Arthur stiffened against him. The king froze, as if holding his breath.

The currents were so relentless that more water began to spill over them, splashing them both, weaving across their bodies. Arthur would not, could not move. His mind screamed at him to flee, to drag Merlin from this freakish occurrence. The enchantment held him still in the midst of the turmoil.

A wall of water rose up, towering over them. The wave was thin, gleaming like blown glass. It was a warm blue color, as clear as if it had come from the tropics. Arthur looked up, mouth gasping for air to shout. It fell over them, warm and liquid. He did call out then, bubbles leaving his mouth. He felt it turn him around violently. They tumbled in the water as he clung to Merlin protectively.

It cocooned them both. It did not feel wet, only warm and heavy. It chocked him, coated him, and encased him. He held onto Merlin with all his might. He felt a flash of horror and dread, wondering what would become of his weakened friend being tossed around in this state.

As quickly as it came, it let him go, dropping back into the ocean with a soft splash. Arthur's yelp trailed off with a dry gasp, eyes watering as oxygen filled his lungs once again. He slowly became aware of his body, of thin, wiry arms holding him close.

Merlin was holding him, body warm with life. He was still in Arthur's arms, but clutching Arthur about the shoulders. Arthur froze, fear, hope, and uncertainty fighting for dominance in his mind.

"Merlin?" Arthur's voice rose uncertainly.

"I'm alright," the sorcerer said gently.

"My god, Merlin!" Arthur wheezed, "What just happened?"

"A healing. The elements of magic, of water, earth, fire, and sky have the power to make or undo anything in the world. Water and earth are the most bound to my nature. What you felt was water in the purest form. It came to my call to save me." Merlin's voice was gruff.

He pulled away from Arthur a little to meet his gaze.

"That was magic?" Arthur's voice still held that vulnerable tone it had had when Merlin had revealed his magic to him for the first time.

Merlin nodded.

"You're alright?" Arthur asked hollowly.

"Yes. Yes, I'm alive and well."

"B-But-" Arthur stuttered.

Merlin shut his eyes and smoothed a hand across Arthur's damp shoulder.

"Relax, Arthur. Just-Just hold me." Merlin sighed, resting his head under Arthur's chin.

Arthur held onto Merlin in the midst of churning waves. Though skittish about the thought of encountering another freak wave, he could not deny Merlin his wish. His friend eventually complained of the cold. Arthur walked back onto the shore with trembling, tingly limbs, stumbling on the beach.

The knights came forward to catch him and Merlin. As Arthur's legs buckled beneath him, he kept his gaze locked on Merlin. The knights fussed over the pale king and the sleepy warlock. They were gently gathered up. Arthur, who was still in shock, was supported by Gwaine.

Percival carried Merlin like he had when the warlock was ill, but he did so this time with a grin on his face. The knights had witnessed Merlin's magic, or whatever natural magic he had summoned to his aid. All they saw now was Merlin blinking at them with a slight smile on his face and a hopeful expression starting to bloom across Arthur's countenance. They could guess what had happened.

Arthur and the sorcerer were settled further up the banks of the shore. Gwaine and Percival watched over them while Sir Leon and Elyan looked for fresh drinking water and firewood.

As the day faded into afternoon and evening, the king and the sorcerer talked, ate, and held all of their relief and amazement in every shared smile. They both fell asleep early as the sun started to set, Arthur's arm beneath Merlin's.

The king's wide palm was pressed against Merlin's strongly beating heart. A smile quirked across the king's lips, one that was not likely to fade for many days to come.

* * *

The End

* * *

Author Notes: I just want to take the time to thank the people who have payed attention to my little story. Thank you, lovely Merlin fandom.

I'll also give you a little confession that you probably have already picked up on. I have Ulcerative Colitis. There is no cure, but I hope that one day there will be. I'm fairly okay now, with the help of modern medicine. Medicine is "magic." I hope that one day it can save even more lives.

*hugs* I'm glad you read my story all the way through, dear reader.


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